<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Ephemeral by notanotheridea27</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30010845">Ephemeral</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notanotheridea27/pseuds/notanotheridea27'>notanotheridea27</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Assault, Character Death, Developing Relationship, F/M, Gen, Ghosts, Haunting, References to Depression, Secret Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:13:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,762</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30010845</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notanotheridea27/pseuds/notanotheridea27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An apathetic prince has his world turned upside down when a wounded young woman is brought to his castle.  It's amazing how much one spirit can change the future of a kingdom.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adam/Belle (Disney), Belle &amp; Chip Potts (Disney), Belle &amp; Maurice (Disney), Lumiere/Plumette (Disney)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Along the mountain path, the beautiful carriage made good time upon the terrain.  The day was chilly, but hardly intolerable.  Prince Adam looked at the book in his hands, wondering if it was worth the effort to even attempt to read any longer.  It was not as though he had never read that particular story before, and as much as he usually enjoyed it, he found himself more than a little bored by it in the moment.  That sensation had been coming up more and more in the past few months, regardless of what he was doing.  Dressing was boring.  Eating was boring.  Reading was boring.  Writing was boring.  Meeting dignitaries was boring.  Traveling was boring.  Everything brought boredom.  Nothing sparked joy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was returning from one of the neighboring kingdoms, doing boring business with boring people that would gain boring results.  A boring duke had tried to offer his boring daughter to the prince to be his boring wife.  Prince Adam had pushed the boundaries of what could have considered civil in his rejection of her.  She was attractive enough, he supposed, but if there was a brain in her head, she had kept it well hidden.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sadly, it was not the first time the twenty one year old prince had found himself in that situation.  As the sole heir to his kingdom, and poised to become king within the year, he was the most sought after bachelor in the realm.  That meant an endless sea of “beautiful maidens” were paraded around him as their fathers all put forth their greatest attempts to sell their daughters to power.  Physical attraction had not really been an issue, but every single one of the young ladies presented to him, since he had been fifteen, had proper etiquette drilled into her to the point where there was no access to the real person beneath.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam did not accept any of the offers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam did not want a mindless puppet in his home.  He certainly did not want one in his chambers.  That concept of keeping a woman solely for status and beauty was downright repulsive to him.  After what he had seen his own parents go through, he had sworn to never fall into such a trap.  If these princesses and duchesses and the like could not bring themselves to speak their own minds to him, then he could not trust them.  So one by one, they were presented to him, and one by one, he rejected them.  Better to die alone, he thought, than subject himself to a life with someone who was either too dim to hold a decent conversation, or too conniving to be honest with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the carriage wound through the forest, the prince let out a miserable sigh.  It was getting harder and harder to care about any of it.  He knew that people called him spoiled, selfish, and unkind, and it was hard to argue against that, but truly the word he would have used to describe himself was apathetic.  He was not engaged with anything, and even attempting to engage was getting increasingly difficult.  His servants kept smiling at him, but honestly that was more annoying than anything else.  He was not entirely certain how much was genuine peppiness and some of it was just overly learned behavior, but it did not matter.  It irritated him.  But not enough for him to do anything about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The scenery seemed to blur together as they continued on their way.  It was the same ground he had crossed a thousand times before.  Why would he put in the effort to try to discern the differences between each of the million trees?  They were trees.  Surrounded by rocks.  And a lot of dirt.  That was it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The carriage jolted mildly, ricocheting out of a hole on the path.  As the prince readjusted himself in his seat, something odd happened.  He saw something out of the window, an anomaly in the woods.  Barely aware of his actions, he reached for the knocker, signaling his driver to stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it, sire?” his driver asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam blinked twice, trying to understand what he is looking at.  “What is that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, sire?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The prince pushed his window open and pointed at the dark mass almost fifty meters from the path.  “That.  What is that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no answer for a moment before the driver answered, “I’m not sure, sire.”  Another pause, before he added, “Shall I send someone to check?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam actually considered for a moment.  He was not sure why he cared about this completely random thing, but for some reason, he was actually interested in the answer.  It had been so long since he had felt the sensation he was not entirely sure that to do about it.  “Yes,” he finally settled on.  “I want to know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a bit of rustling around him as those who worked for him moved to accommodate his wish.  Still safe inside the carriage, the prince continued to try to figure it out himself.  It almost looked like a very dark rock, but there was something wrong with it.  It was the wrong shape, the wrong color, the wrong texture.  It was not off by an enormous amount, just enough to be slightly atypical.  How he had even seen it was a mystery in and of itself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two of his guards were approaching it, and the prince almost squirmed in anticipation.  Why was this so fascinating to him?  It was a strange rock, for God’s sake!  There was no reason, </span>
  <em>
    <span>none</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for this to grab this level of attention!  He leaned right up to the edge of the window, both in wonder and concern for his bizarre reaction.  He found himself wondering how disappointed he was about to be, and embarrassed, when his people returned to let him know he had stopped his caravan in the name of what really was just a strange rock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first guard knelt down, reached out to the object, and then all hell broke loose.  There was shouting, and a flurry of his staff came pouring out of their own transports as they rushed toward the rock.  Voices seemed to be everywhere, items were being pulled from wagons and in less than a minute the ‘rock’ was completely surrounded by  a whirlwind of chaos.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And suddenly, the reason for the chaos became clear.  It was not a strange rock that had caught the prince’s eyes in the middle of the forest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a woman.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From his carriage, Adam watched as a team of his staff gently carried her up toward the road.  It was obvious that she was wounded, and she did not seem terribly responsive as she was relocated.  Lumiere, his trusted and faithful and </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> too energetic servant, approached the prince’s window, oddly timid given his usually outgoing personality.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your highness,” the slightly older man gently spoke, “the young woman is...she is not well, and she needs help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The prince did not offer a reaction, as he did not know what it was expected of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lumiere cleared his throat.  “We...might have the...resources...to offer assistance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, the prince did not offer a response.  After all, it was not as though the other man’s thoughts were technically incorrect, but it was also not as though Prince Adam had a reputation for reaching out to help others.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I may be so bold,” the servant tried again, growing firmer in his speech, “I would like to suggest we bring her with us to get her help from a proper physician.  She will surely perish without such help, and leaving her to that fate would be nothing short of cruel.”’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam pondered that for a moment.  Yes, he was spoiled, selfish, and unkind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he was not cruel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well,” he finally spoke.  “You may place her in your transport, and once we return to the castle, you may find a place for her to rest until the physician arrives.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As desperately as he had been hoping for his master to grant such permissions, Lumiere had not at all been expecting it, especially so quickly.  He nearly asked why the prince was agreeing with him, but decided that the risk of him changing his mind was too great and that he should just take the offer while it was available.  “You are most gracious, Master,” Lumiere genuinely said with a bow before turning to relay the directions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam snorted as he looked away, not caring how undignified the action was.  He was most certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> most gracious, and anyone who had ever met him knew it.  It was just another example of the false praises he knew his servants piled onto him.  He knew they were all lies, and so their words of kindness meant nothing.  But he also knew that it was the order of things, and that there was nothing he could do about that.  He was a prince.  They were servants.  He could say or do anything, and they would tell him it was glorious.  It was pathetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made him pathetic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nearly cancelled his orders, but opted not to.  Choosing not to help a wounded woman abandoned in the woods was cruel enough, but offering safety only to renege on it and literally toss her out into the cold before leaving her to die?  There was cruel, and there was outright monstrous.  Besides, he would have to genuinely care about it to issue a fresh command, and now that the question of the anomaly was settled, he found himself once again sliding into his apathetic state.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, that was certainly a short lived excursion</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he bitterly thought to himself.  He had found a small level of actual excitement in his curiosity, but now that it was over, he felt somehow worse than he had before.  When had this happened to him?  When had he grown so disassociated with everything around him?  He had always been fairly separated from the world at large, but all noble children were, and royals more than the rest.  He had never really been a part of the day to day living that the majority of the kingdom’s people did.  He had been near cloistered in his upbringing, always under the careful watch of whatever tutor or governess or unfortunate servant was meant to be keeping an eye on him.  He had no brothers or sisters, and he had never been close with his cousins.  Was that why he felt the disconnect?  Was that why he no longer cared what was happening around him?  Was that why now, at the age of twenty one, he already felt that life had nothing more to offer him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But how could that be the case?  He was hardly the only royal to grow up without siblings or particularly close relations, and countless others seemed engaged in their worlds.  They held parties and danced with great abandon.  They enjoyed viewing art and took pleasure in operas.  They hunted in packs and bonded over their kills.  They did things, and they enjoyed them.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why couldn’t he?  The only thing he did that seemed to bring him any measure of peace was reading, and as his gaze fell upon the open book in his lap, he knew that even that was no longer stimulating enough for him.  Something was wrong with him.  Something was broken in him.  He would never confess such a thing out loud, though.  He could never show such a weakness to others, even if he could see it plain as day himself.  Something about him just was not right, and over the past few months, he had begun to doubt that they ever would be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So who cared if some woman needed a place to sleep and recover?  He would likely never see her himself.  The servants would probably put her in one of their empty rooms, which were on a floor he never visited.  They would call for the physician, who would not need to report to him on the case.  They would bring up food from the kitchens he never walked through, and change the linens that were not fine enough for him to ever sleep in.  Honestly, if he had not been the one to bring her to their attention, they probably could have helped her without him ever being aware of her existence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The coachman asked the prince if they should continue their journey, and the prince allowed it.  There was nothing more for them to do at that spot, and it was time to get back to his boring routine.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Prince Adam had been home for all of twenty minutes before something odd happened.  That sensation, that niggling of curiosity, once again arose in his mind.  Experiencing it once earlier that day had been odd enough, but a second time in the same day?  It was more than unusual.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Strange as it was, though, he found himself near desperate to not let it go.  The ability to genuinely  feel had grown so foreign to him that he was almost giddy over it.  He refused to let it shine through to his surface, but deep down, it was a thrill  He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know what was happening.  He actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> for something.  He had not felt that in so long!  Knowledge had always been a burden or a requirement, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> a desire!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had told his staff that he had wanted to rest, but Prince Adam was far from tired.  In truth he had only wanted privacy while he processed the new sensations he was experiencing.  He had removed his shoes and stockings to pace his room in silence, not wanting any passing servants to hear that he was not, in fact, resting.  They would never say anything about it, and he could look them square in the eye and tell them that in spite of the clear footsteps they had heard, he had slept the whole time, and they would do nothing but agree with him.  They would all know it was false, but they would agree with him anyway.  Because that was how things were done.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The prince shook his head, determined not to fall back into that mindset.  He quickened his pace as he walked back and forth, allowing his questions to flow naturally to his mind.  Who was she?  Why was she alone in the woods?  What had happened to injure her so?  And, gnawing more strongly than any other questions, why was she hiding herself?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That one bothered at him the most.  Whoever she was and whatever the cause of her wounds, clearly she was a person who was in need of assistance.  But why actively conceal oneself from passers by?  There was no way she had been positioned that way by accident.  Prince Adam may not have been an expert at wilderness survival, but he did know a thing or two about trying to hide in plain sight, and that was obviously what she had been doing.  No one collapsed and landed at that sort of angle, and even if they did, their cloaks did not drape over them perfectly to conceal them.  She had been wounded enough to barely respond to his guards, but had somehow gathered the strength to blend in when they had been approaching.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s hiding</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the prince deduced.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s hiding from something, or someone.</span>
  </em>
  
  <em>
    <span>Likely whoever did this to her</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  He had not studied her particularly carefully as she had been brought up, but from what he had been able to see, her injuries were not caused by wildlife.  He had once had the misfortune of witnessing a man get killed by a boar.  It had been on a hunt that had gone very, very wrong when he was ten, and it was an image he would never forget.  A wolf pack would have likely been even less clean than that if they had been upon her.  And had they been the result of a tumble, they would not have been spread on her as they were.  No, those injuries had been made by humans.  Another topic he knew a thing or two about.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With his feet still bare, he impulsively decided that he wanted to know more about the situation.  It was the most interesting thing to come up at his castle in years, and damn it, he wanted to know what was going on!  He marched briskly from the West Wing, not caring a bit for the slightly awkward looks some of the staff were giving him.  They weren’t going to do anything about it, and he wanted answers.  A small voice in the back of his mind wondered why he had not just summoned a servant and commanded them to look into it, but he quickly shut that voice up and committed to his actions.  He would simply ask the woman himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was halfway through the staircase that led to the servants’ quarters when he nearly ran into the physician.  Both men startled slightly, neither one of them prepared for the other.  The doctor recovered first, offering a bow as he calmly said, “Your Grace.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Prince Adam felt irritated at the behavior, but chose to ignore why.  “Doctor,” he greeted.  “Have you already examined the young woman my staff brought back?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Doctor DeLong was thrown off guard again.  He had been the lead physician at the castle for the entirety of the prince’s life, and would have never expected the young man to take any level of interest in something that did not involve himself directly.  “I have,” he slowly affirmed, assessing his situation.  “Would you like to discuss it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was unfamiliar territory for the both of them, but Prince Adam was not yet ready to let go of the feelings of curiosity.  “Yes,” he decided.  He turned quickly and walked toward the salon, knowing that the doctor would follow without further prompting.  Again, that bothered him, and again, he did not know why.  As the two men sat, Prince Adam just looked at the doctor, waiting for him to begin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Doctor Delong cleared his throat.  “Your Grace,” he began, “I am not sure of the specific circumstances that have led her to her current state, but her condition is not a good one.  She has received physical traumas to her body that, if I am correct, have a chance at proving fatal.  If she is to have any hope of recovery, she will need to be well taken care of.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The doctor did not elaborate on that point, but Prince Adam knew what was not being said.  Her life fell into his hands, and his generosity of resources was what lay between her and death.  “Very well,” he found himself saying.  “But what of the cause?  I know you said you are not sure of the specifics, but what </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> you know?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Without meaning to, the doctor began to wring his hands together.  He had never seen the boy act in such a way, and it was slightly concerning.  Still, he was the prince, and had asked for something.  It was not the doctor’s place to deny him.  “I cannot be sure,” he again stated, “but it would seem that she has been struck repeatedly, likely with objects, focused on her face and body.  This seems to be the work of a man.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The small shudder than ran through Prince Adam was slight enough that he held hope that the doctor had not noticed it.  “Did she not tell you what happened?” he demanded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She...she did not say,” the doctor reluctantly answered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The doctor had expected the non-answer to be met with either apathy or anger, the only two emotions the prince had displayed in the past few years.  Therefore he was wholly unprepared for the prince, who he had just realized was without footwear, to shoot to his feet and march in the direction of the staircase once more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your Highness?” he called out, scrambling to his own feet.  He was not as young as he once was, and it took him a moment to catch up to the master of the castle.  “Your Highness, where are you going?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If she didn’t tell you, then she will tell me,” the prince plainly spoke.  “Which room is she in?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>By this point, several of his servants had taken notice of his bizarre actions, and had slowly gathered at a distance.  Of them, only Lumiere stepped forward toward his master and offered to lead the way.  “She is this way, Master,” he spoke, betraying none of the ill at ease sensation he held.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Prince Adam did not formally acknowledge the action, but he did follow along.  It was a very brief walk, going only as far as the first room that had been available for the task.  Lumiere opened the door for his prince, offering a bow as the young man walked past him without any mention of thanks.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, at least that is still normal</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the servant thought.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Without any regard for the woman’s sense of privacy, the prince entered the room fully and stopped beside the bed.  He had been prepared to demand his answers when he realized, as weak as she was, the woman before him flinched and tried to pull her blankets higher.  Unconsciously, the prince took a step back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who...who are you?” she weakly asked.  This newcomer was not nearly as calming as the last few people had been.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he hesitated, she wondered if he was unable to hear and did not understand her.  Then she wondered if she had spoken at all, as his expression seemed downright baffled at the question.  It was only when he answered that she realized her mistake.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am Prince Adam, Master of this castle.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The young woman felt like vomiting, though the queasy feeling had been there prior to His Highness’ arrival.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“For what?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed like such a simple question, but one neither had an answer for.  She had not known who he was.  She asked.  He answered.  While part of him was offended she did not know him, even he could acknowledge that it was not as though he made his presence known in the towns and villages in his domain.  It was reasonable that she would not have that information, and she had sought it out.  There was no fault in that behavior.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Prince Adam glanced to the side as he wondered where the hell that train of thought had come from, but he dismissed it as quickly as he had come up with it.  He had his own questions to ask.  “Who are you?” he asked, echoing her own curiosity.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The woman in the bed was pale and shaken, and seemed exhausted, but knowing she was in the presence of the prince she forced herself to answer.  “Belle.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Belle?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s my name,” she softly said, fighting to stay awake.  The doctor had given her laudanum for the pain, but it was not nearly enough to make it go away entirely.  Everything still ached and burned, though not quite as badly.  She could feel herself fading away from conscious thought.  Before she could consider her actions, her words slipped out of her mouth.  “Read to me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Prince Adam nearly scoffed at the idea, but a good look at her stayed his tongue.  One of her eyes was well swollen shut, and he could not tell if the other was closing from injury or exhaustion.  Her skin, where it was not damaged, was an unnaturally pale color he had seen on more than one occasion in his life, and never had it led to anything good.  Perhaps it would have been for the best if he simply left the room.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just one more story,” her weakened voice whispered.  “Just one more…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Prince Adam would never know what force of magic or nature led him to do what he did, but without further complaint, without handing off the task to another, without disregarding her completely, he walked to the lone table in the room, grabbed one of the three books upon it at random, and sat down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Once upon a time,” he softly began.  He recognized the tale as soon as he started reading it, and remembered it being one of his favorites as a child.  It was one of few memories he had that was pleasant, and again he began to feel something that he deemed worth feeling.  Without much awareness, he read the book aloud for a solid hour before he was pulled from his task by his interrupting head maid.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your Highness,” Mrs. Potts gently said, moving directly into his view.  She was one of the few members on staff that actually seemed to get through to him once in a while, and it seemed that day was no exception, “she’s resting now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The prince blinked, confused for a moment before remembering where he was and what had led him to that book.  His embarrassment, if noticed, went unmentioned as he got to his feet.  He glanced over at the form of the young woman - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Belle</span>
  </em>
  <span> he reminded himself - who was, in fact, asleep.  Without acknowledging the situation at all, the prince left the room and went back to his own chambers.  He did not leave them again for the rest of the night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>///</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The senior staff spoke quietly amongst themselves the next morning, stopping only as they found their prince approaching them.  They had delegated their usual morning tasks to others so they might conference, but it appeared it had not been enough to satisfy the prince for long.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I assume that my interactions with the junior staff have a better explanation than the lot of you acting like henpeckers,” he testily spoke.  He had not enjoyed being directly waited on by those who did not know </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what he wanted in </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> the right manner to fit his </span>
  <em>
    <span>exact</span>
  </em>
  <span> mood at the moment, and that was all he had dealt with that morning.  An outsider would have seen their work as completely competent, but even Prince Adam knew that there was truth behind his reputation for being spoiled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Forgive us, Your Grace,” Cogsworth very quickly, and somewhat nervously, said.  “We did not mean to inconvenience you so.  Please, you are always welcome to send them to fetch us directly if ever their service is not to your liking.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am aware of that, Cogsworth,” he snapped, “but given how everything has gone thus far, I was not convinced that my request to have Mrs. Potts was not going to end with me being sent the chef!  Clearly they were not up to the task, and I have had to do it myself.  Now what the hell is going on that requires </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Prince Adam immediately recognized the actions his senior staff exhibited before him.  The meaningful glances at one another, the way they would not look at him directly, the way they all seemed to be waiting for another one to speak, he had seen it all before.  As such, he was not surprised when the next person who spoke was Mrs. Potts.  It was always Mrs. Potts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve just made a fresh pot of tea,” she said, seemingly directing him back from whence he came.  “I’m more than happy to tell you whatever you would like to know, Sire, but I think it’s best we be comfortable as we do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As she led him down the hall to a more comfortable room, he softly stated, “She died, didn’t she?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Sire, but she did.”  Prince Adam did not know how his beloved housekeeper seemed to produce a cup of tea in front of him in an instant while guiding him to sit, but he had long ago decided that whatever witchcraft she used for it was fine, so long as she did not turn it against him.  “She slipped away very early this morning.  Seems it was just too much for her to recover from.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t understand,” the prince quietly said.  “I thought...I thought that she could get better if we took care of her.  I thought if we gave her shelter and medicine, she could heal.  Was I wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Dearie,” Mrs. Potts answered, losing some of her formality.  She had taken care of him since he was an infant, and knew his experiences with death.  She was only thankful that for once, he had not witnessed it directly with his own eyes.  He had done that three times already, and she felt that was more than enough.  “Offering someone shelter when they need it is good.  You did a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing.  It’s just that sometimes, it doesn’t matter what we as mere mortals do…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...because the Lord works in mysterious ways, ways that we are not meant to understand,” the prince grumpily finished.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Potts looked astonished, then colored lightly with embarrassment.  “Oh dear, I’ve used that one before a few too many times, have I?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Last uttered in my presence not two years ago when my dog perished,” the prince confirmed.  “Really, at the rate things die around here, you may wish to begin rehearsing some new lines.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They both heard the choked off laugh from Lumiere around the corner, along with Cogsworth’s admonishment.  “I’ll keep that in mind, Dearie,” she assured him, giving his arm a little pat.  “I’m sorry, I know it is never easy when we think we can fix something but we can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Prince Adam was not necessarily upset about the loss of the girl as a person.  After all, outside of her name and the fact that she liked stories, he knew approximately nothing about her.  Still, Mrs. Potts was right.  He had seen something wrong, he had tried to fix it, and it turned out to be unfixable.  It was a very unpleasant sensation, which was why he rarely tried to fix things in the first place.  “I still don’t understand.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Potts opened her mouth to explain how certain injuries can affect a body, but she found herself cutoff.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why does this involve you, Lumiere, Cogsworth, Plumette, and Chapeau?  Could you have not had one of you available?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The older maid shook her head, slightly disappointed with the self-serving nature of his question.  She had thought him genuinely upset about the death, but it appeared she was wrong.  “We were trying to figure out the appropriate next steps, Sire,” she answered, slipping back into full formality.  It did not go unnoticed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Next steps for what?” he demanded in a far shorter tone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“For her, Sire,” the grey haired woman answered.  “We don’t know who her family is or where she is from, so there is no one to notify of her passing who could come collect her body.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>///</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Up the stairway, in a room not far off, Belle opened her eyes.  She remembered that there had been pain before she had slipped off into her slumber, but whatever it had been, it was gone.  She yawned and let out a mighty stretch as she sat up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quickly, she realized that she was in a room she had never been in before.  It was a small but tidy room with a simple bed, a small table with a couple of books on it, a little chair, and a small window.  It was completely unfamiliar to her, and she had no ideas at all how she had arrived there.  Where had she been when she had fallen asleep?  It was all sort of fuzzy.  The last thing she could clearly remember was making lunch in her own home, but obviously </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> had happened since then.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She got to her feet without making a sound and put her hands on her hips.  Wherever she was, she supposed she owed the owners of this home some thanks for letting her rest.  She would go out to meet them right after remaking the bed.  Basic courtesy was never too much to ask, after all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But as she turned to the bed, she froze.  There, under sheets still tucked in tight, was her own body.  Beaten, pale, and unmoving.  Not even the shallowest signs of breath seemed to be escaping the visage of her own form beneath her.  Whipping her head around a few times to look about the room, her eyes settled once more on her own deceased self and said the only thing she could think of.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well...that can’t be good…”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Belle was still trying to figure out what was going on when she saw a somewhat recognizable man enter the room.  “Oh, thank goodness,” she sighed.  “Listen, I’m not certain of the circumstances I seem to be in the middle of right now, but I could really use some help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man paid her no mind, and instead bent over her corpse that lay on the bed.  Belle shivered slightly as the man put a hand on her body, and wanted him to stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sir!  Remove your hand immediately!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But again, the man paid her no mind.  Two others entered the room, one a taller fellow with a long nose who also seemed familiar somehow, and a more portly man Belle knew she had never seen before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, doctor?” the shorter man asked.  “How long can we wait?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait for what?” Belle asked, walking around the frame of the bed and closer to the three gentlemen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man who was addressed as the doctor shook his head.  “Were this the dead of winter, we might be able to open the windows and get a few extra days.  As it is, though, I believe no more than forty-eight hours from her time of death, which was nearly four hours ago.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So forty-four hours,” the long nosed man responded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, thank you for that astounding math lesson, Lumiere,” the stout man retorted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Forty-four hours for what?” Belle called out, feeling her frustrations grow.  “Forty-four hours for </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not one of the three gentlemen reacted, and it was only then that Belle realized the problem: they could not hear her.  Desperate to communicate, she reached out toward them, only to watch her hand pass right through the one she now knew to be Lumiere.  “Oh no,” she whispered.  “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Has anyone found any leads yet?” the doctor asked.  “Anything at all?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Lumiere sadly responded.  “Whoever she was, she was not known by any of the castle staff.  Judging from the direction she seemed to be coming from in the woods, we believe she is from one of the towns to the north.  We have sent messengers to inquire.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Castle staff?” Belle asked, trying to catch up with the situation at hand.  “I’m at the castle?  This is the castle?”  She spun around to look at the room, but found herself disappointed.  “I thought the castle would have been grander than this…wait, the north?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What message are you sending?” the doctor cautiously asked as he turned away from the body and walked for the door.  The other two men were leaving as well, Belle realized, and she dearly needed to know what was going on.  Without turning to glance at her former self, Belle managed to slip out of the room before the door was shut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We are keeping it vague for now,” the portly man assured.  “If there is foul play afoot, we do not wish to alert the guilty parties.  For now, we are inquiring if anyone knows of a girl with her likeness.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lumiere nodded.  “Also, we do not wish for a family to learn of a tragedy through such impersonal means.  Cogsworth has made sure that the language crafted will only imply that we are looking for her, not that she is harmed, let alone deceased.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I’m not deceased!” Belle cried, walking quickly alongside them.  “I mean, I know it looks bad right now, and I know that my body is...back there...but I’m not gone!  I am here!  Right here!  In front of you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It did not matter how desperately she implored them, though.  Nothing she did seemed to garner any sort of response at all.  She was, for lack of a better term, a ghost.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But why?” she whispered.  Did everyone become a ghost when they died?  Were some of the other people she saw walking around ghosts?  Old maids and butlers that haunted the castle?  She had heard stories of such things, but had never put any belief in them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She walked from person to person in the corridor, begging each of them with words, with gestures, with attempted touch, to get them to notice her.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just one</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>I just need one of them to see me.  Someone here has to be another ghost, or a medium, or even some sort of witch.  If I can be here, then others can, too!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was all to no avail, though.  She went floor to floor, room to room, ignoring the magnificent castle itself as she flung herself from one staff member to the next, pleading for someone to know she was there.  But no one did, and she was alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>///</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stood in misery as she watched the casket receive its final blessing before being lowered into the ground.  She had been there through each step of the horrid process, from her body being prepared, to being slipped into the pine box, and now, with little ceremony, as her mortal form was lowered into the ground.  The gathering at her grave was not large, not that she had expected it to be.  Some of the staff had come out to show her respects, but they had never crossed paths with her while she was alive, and the lip service that paid did little to comfort her.  She had spent every moment from waking in this hell until the lid to her casket was closed trying to get anyone to acknowledge her.  Nothing had worked.  And now, she did not know what to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything suddenly became too much, and Belle turned away from her grave.  She was ready to leave entirely, but paused when she saw someone there.  He was standing in the back in the group, also in black but in far finer clothes.  She thought she had seen him somewhere before, but she could not place him.  She had talked to every staff member in the castle, but she had never seen…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Who...who are you?” she weakly asked.  This newcomer was not nearly as calming as the last few people had been.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When he hesitated, she wondered if he was unable to hear and did not understand her.  Then she wondered if she had spoken at all, as his expression seemed downright baffled at the question.  It was only when he answered that she realized her mistake.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I am Prince Adam, Master of this castle.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The prince.  The man standing at the back of her funeral was the prince.  The actual prince of their land, the man who was going to be king shortly, if she recalled correctly, was mourning her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>mourning</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she admitted to herself.  He did not seem particularly distraught.  He seemed almost confused by everything that was going on.  Had he never been to funeral services before?  She knew that neither of his parents were still alive.  Surely he had been to theirs?  Perhaps he had never been to a peasant’s funeral.  She imagined that when the king and queen had died, there had been far more pomp and circumstance.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She toyed with the idea of approaching him and making colorful comments, as there was nothing he could do to her, what with her being dead and all.  But her heart was not really in it, and with a shake of her head, she walked away.  She had been putting off her grim task long enough.  It was time for her to go home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There had not been a pressing reason to return south of the castle to her village, since her father was to be off at the fair for at least a fortnight.  While there was a gap in her memory, Belle had been able to figure out that even as she stood there, it had only been about four days since her father had left.  No one else in town, save the bookseller, was particularly close with her, and she had been dreading the idea of haunting her own house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She felt like crying as she made her way to the front of the castle grounds.  Would her father be able to hear her?  To see her?  To touch her?  Would her father even know what had happened to her?  If he, as the others she had come across, could not even sense her being, would she be damned to spend her days watching her father grieve, unable to help him?  Could she even bring herself to stay through all of that?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Forcing it from her mind as best she could, she shook out her shoulders, lifted her chin, and began the walk across the bridge.  It was going to take several hours for her to walk from the castle to her town, and that was assuming she got the path right on her first attempt, but it was not as though she wanted for food or drink or rest.  She had learned in the past days that she felt for none of that.  That knowledge left her feeling somehow even emptier than she had been before.  No more cherry tarts, no more rich hot chocolate, no more curling up in her bed at the end of a long day and relaxing into beautiful dreams.  All of those small luxuries were gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the edge of the bridge, she automatically offered greetings to the guards, not at all surprised that they did not so much as glance in her direction.  The gates were open, and with her head held high, Belle walked through.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, that had been what she had tried to do.  Somehow, she found herself knocked to the ground.  “What?” she asked, getting to her feet.  She had </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> that.  She had actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> something when she had tried to go through, and it had actually stopped her.  More cautiously than before, she edged herself to the perimeter of the castle grounds, and extended her arm in front of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had not been her imagination.  Something, some invisible wall was stopping her.  She hit at the wall, and while what she experienced was not exactly pain, it was not pleasant, either.  Angrily, she kicked at the unseen force, only to stumble backwards and once again fall over.  “No!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again she got to her feet, but this time, she noticed a guard walking toward the wall.  “No, wait!” she cried out, desperate to warn him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she had not needed to worry on his behalf, because without any issue whatsoever, he walked through.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WHAT?!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tried again and again to leave, but no matter where she tried to exit, her attempts were rejected by the invisible wall.  She screamed her frustrations to the heavens before breaking down in sobs before the open gates that mocked her.  She was trapped.  She would never go home.  She would never get to see her father again.  And she never even got to say good-bye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>///</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a few hours later that Belle returned to the castle proper, feeling even more down than she had at her own funeral.  “And isn’t that quite the achievement?” she snidely told herself.  She had felt anger and more than a little frustration when she had been alive, but never to this level.  She felt the desire to hit something, to break something, to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> that would have </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> impact on </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she walked through the open servants door, she spied an already cracked bowl.  In her anger, she lashed out at it, desperate to leave her mark, but her hand sailed straight through it, the wall, and the shelf it sat upon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frowning, Belle looked down at her feet.  Why was she not falling through the floor?  If she was no longer corporeal, should she not be in a perpetual state of falling?  With nothing better to do, and very much hoping for a distraction, Belle decided to put her new manifestation to the test.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had let her hands drift through objects before, but she had never attempted to do it with her whole self.  The sensation of her arm being in the middle of a wall was strange to say the least, and she had been a little afraid that she was going to try to walk through a closed door, only to become trapped inside it.  Some of the old ghost stories she had read mentioned particular objects being haunted, and she had not wanted to become anything like that.  What a horrible fate, she had thought, to be a human soul trapped in a clock or a teapot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But with her frustrations reaching impressive new levels, she found her fear faded enough for her to try.  She turned to an unobstructed wall and marched ahead, though she did close her eyes and grimaced as her face was about to go through.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of her panicking had appeared unwarranted, though, for while going through the wall had been a little off putting, it had neither hurtful, nor rendered her trapped in it.  “Oh, thank goodness,” she sighed, pressing her hand delicately to her chest.  With that firmly resolved, she decided that there was no time like the present to actually explore the splendor of the castle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It really was magnificent, and she took in everything that she could.  Every carved railway, every perfectly clean and brushed carpet, every pristine marble statue and golden archway, it was pretty spectacular.  Attempting to distract herself from her troubles, Belle began to play a little as she hopped from room to room, playing a pretend game of Hide and Seek and forcing herself to ignore the fact that no one was actually seeking her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She let her mind slide back to those tales of the dead she had pondered earlier.  Many of them talked of spirits literally floating from room to room.  Was that a possibility?  Belle tried to imagine herself hovering just above the ground, but nothing happened.  She imagined taking all of her energy and pushing it out through her feet, but again, nothing happened.  With nothing to lose and no one able to witness her, she took a step up onto a chair, then a table, surprised that they seemed to hold her but refusing to question it at that exact moment, instead jumping for all she was worth and trying to fly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Never had she been so grateful for being unseen, for that did not end glamorously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are there rules I can reference for this?” she called out to the universe, not particularly expecting an answer but hoping nonetheless.  “A book?  A reference guide?  Ancient etchings carved into a wall?  Anything?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No answers came from her questioning.  They never did.  Even when she was alive it was hard for her to get people to listen to her, but now that she was dead it was outright impossible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Belle stopped for a moment and did something she was realizing she had not yet done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am dead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She spoke the words plainly, but felt the enormity of their meaning almost immediately.  She was dead.  She had grieved not getting to taste her favorite treats again, or feeling her blankets, or even seeing her house, but for the first time, she was realizing that she had lost more than her home, her father, and her things.  She had lost her opportunity for her big adventure.  She had lost her opportunity to fall in love with someone she deemed worthy.  She had lost her opportunity to prove herself as a capable and independent person, with or without a man on her arm.  She missed all of her </span>
  <em>
    <span>possibilities</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As that grief ran into her, she felt herself lose her balance and stumbled backwards.  Were she still mortal, she would have collided soundly with the wall behind her.  As it was, though, she simply fell through it.  As her back slammed into the ground, she found herself again at a loss on how to describe the sensation.  It was not pain.  She knew what pain was.  Every person knew that, and it did not fit the description of the embarrassingly high number of hard impacts she had managed to experience that day.  With her eyes still closed, she let out an aggravated sigh.  “So help me,” she mumbled, rolling over to get up, “if I am going to spend all of eternity walking around this place, and there is not already a rulebook, I will find a way to write one myself!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Through muscle memory she went to dust off her clothes, only realising after the second swipe that she no longer collected things like dust.  “I will choose to see this as a good thing,” she told herself.  The flooring in this room was different than the others she had seen.  The tiling ranged into a light almost aquamarine color with gold trim painted all around it.  It was a soothing color, something Belle had not known a color could really be.  Slowly she brought her head up, and she gasped in awe at what was before her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a library, far grander than even the most outrageous of her dreams had dared go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never seen so many books in all my life!” she said.  She paused briefly.  “I suppose I still haven’t…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She briefly shrugged it off as she ran from shelf to shelf, gazing longingly at everything before her, when a thought occurred to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I acknowledged I was dead,” she reasoned out loud, “grieved, and came to be in the grandest of all libraries.  Heaven is real, and I have found it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For what felt like the thousandth time in two days, Belle felt her mood wildly swing again.  She had been a fairly quiet, reserved, and rational person in her life, but with the constant onslaught of new information, Belle was finding rationality harder and harder to look to.  In that instant, though, she did not care.  She had found her light, her dream library, and she was not going to waste another minute getting to those books!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She should have expected what happened next, but with her fading attachment to mortal reason, it was only after her hand went through the titles on the bindings did Belle realize that her dream was truly her nightmare.  It was not Heaven, rewarding her for her acceptance of her death.  It was just another room in the castle she had already been in.  A wonderful, glorious room full of all the mortal objects she had ever desired, but the books were just that: objects for mortals.  Just as the broken bowl had been.  Just as the shelf had been.  Just as all those doors and walls she had just walked through had been.  And just as she had with all of them, she could not touch the books.  Something inside her snapped.  A rage she had never known boiled over, and with every ounce of fury she could summon, Belle screamed louder and longer than she had ever done before in her existence, living or dead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>///</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three floors up, in the prince’s private study, as Cogsworth went on and on about yet another boring topic, Prince Adam’s head shot up.  “Did you hear that?” he asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cogsworth looked at the young prince, a touch miffed at being interrupted but never daring to say so to his master.  “I’m sorry, Your Highness?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sounded like a cry.  You didn’t hear it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid not, Sire,” Cogsworth slowly responded.  He had been getting concerned for the boy (and compared to his own advanced age, Prince Adam really was just a boy at twenty one) over the past few years, and the last three days seemed to have almost been some sort of tipping point for the Master.  His behaviors had been odd, even for royal standards, and it was worrying the older man.  “Are you feeling quite alright?  Shall I have Mrs. Potts bring you some tea?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam seemed to be staring at nothing in particular on the wall for a minute before he shook his head.  He had heard something, he knew he had, but if Cogsworth had not heard it, it was probably nothing.  “Cogsworth, are there any situations, that you are aware of, where you would start with any course of action other than asking me if I wanted Mrs. Potts to bring me tea?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do not believe so, Sire,” Cogsworth answered, still unsure of the state of his prince’s wellbeing but willing to play along with whatever mood he was currently in.  “Perhaps if we were invaded I might bark some orders at the staff to barricade the doors, but as I can’t imagine sending Mrs. Potts to build a blockade, I see no reason why she would not be able to get you some.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Prince Adam declared himself done with their appointment, outright ignoring that they had not even covered half the agenda, Cogsworth said nothing.  Something was wrong with his prince, and Cogsworth did not know at all where to begin looking for help.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nothing at all was going even remotely as Prince Adam had wanted it to.  It was bad enough that his sleep had been more than restless for the last few days.  Tossing and turning all night long, only to be coaxed from his chambers only an hour after truly falling into a peaceful rest had not done a damned thing to help his temper.  His favorite daytime jacket had gotten a stain on it, and no matter how well his servants tried to hide it, he could read their expressions well enough to know they doubted they could truly save it.  Cogsworth was somehow twice as high strung as usual, a feat Prince Adam had not known to be possible in the mortal realm, and that damn dog the servants took care of had torn into the castle and dragged its muddy footprints all over his entryway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If one more thing went wrong, he was going to lose his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was something that had been creeping up in his thoughts over the past few months, the thought that he might be slowly going mad.  He knew that he was not behaving the way that he was meant to.  He knew that his swinging from apathy to rage and back again was not normal.  He knew that something was far from right with him.  It bothered him.  It bothered him deeply.  But what could he do about it?  There was no one he could speak with on the matter.  If he dared speak of a possible onset of madness, there was no way he would be able to receive his coronation unchallenged.  The only thing he had with certainty in his life was his title, and he could not risk that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he buried his fears.  Shoved them down as far as he could and prayed that no one would be the wiser.  Or, at least, that no one who would try to do anything about it would notice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For weeks he had kept everything contained well enough, but something had changed.  Ever since he had spied that doomed woman in the woods, he had felt as though his servants were beginning to figure out that he was not well.  Something was just different.  They had buried her yesterday in a small, unremarkable grave.  The staff had done a service for the woman who they only knew as Belle.  No family name or formal line, no town or titles.  Just Belle, buried in the ground.  He had gone to watch the end of it, watching her lowered into the ground.  It was not the first time he had watched a burial, and he knew it would not be the last.  And that woman was a stranger to him.  He knew her name, and had been near her for only an hour, more absorbed in the book than her wellbeing.  Her passing should not have affected him.  At all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no reason something should be different.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was just agitated that day, he told himself.  He was irritated and bothered by all the wrong things happening, and that was what was really bothering him.  His mind was sound, and he would not waste any more time worrying over something that was not even a problem.  He was neither a simpleton nor a child.  He was the prince.  He would be king.  And nothing would stand in his way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Master?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That did not mean that fate would not try.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Prince Adam demanded, refusing to look up from the book he had been failing to read.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barely taking another step into the room, Lumiere rubbed his hands together.  “Master, it seems that there has been a change in the schedule for tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That got his attention.  “What nonsense is the duke acting out now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lumiere did not answer immediately, already knowing how poorly the news would be received.  He had almost been hoping that the prince would be in one of his distant moods where little seemed to even get through to him.  At least that would have bought him some time before the yelling started.  “Master, the duke has sent word that he will not be arriving tomorrow as he has had something come up, and that he will be coming next week instead.”  The room was silent for a moment, and Lumiere instinctively took a step back as he watched the fury grow over the prince’s face.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam’s book slammed shut.  The duke he had been prepared to meet was postponing for a week with barely a day's notice? An appalling move of disrespect to anyone of his station!  How dare he?  How dare he think he could do such a thing?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell him I will not reschedule,” the prince bit out.  “He can show up tomorrow, or he can consider all of his appointments with me cancelled.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Master, if I may, the hour is growing late for sending a messenger all that way…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Then he shouldn’t have cancelled at the last minute</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” the prince roared, shooting to his feet.  “If that imbecile thinks that he can get away with shoving me aside like this because he did not feel like addressing his issues in a timely fashion, that is not my problem!  He will receive notice, and he will receive it tonight!  And if he is not here, at his appointed time, I will reign hell upon him!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lumiere’s grip on his own hands tightened.  He had known the prince since toddlerhood and was no stranger to his outbursts, but there was no denying that they were getting worse every year.  “I agree that he should not have acted as he did,” the servant cautiously began, “but on behalf of the boys who would ride into the night with your letter…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t!” Prince Adam hollered.  “Don’t you dare make excuses!  It is their </span>
  <em>
    <span>job</span>
  </em>
  <span> to ride out into the night if I so command it, and I do!  And if you ever dare to second guess my judgement again, I shall have your head!”  With all his strength Prince Adam threw his book, shattering its spine against the wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The servant merely bowed and backed out of the room.  Lumiere was fairly confident that his prince was not </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to have his head.  Hell, he had been threatened with that dozens of times over the years, and yet his head remained intact.  But that did not mean that he wished to anger the prince any further than necessary, lest the master take his temper out on someone who </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> know that the threat of decapitation was idle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lumiere had been gone a full two minutes before Prince Adam calmed down enough to become aware of his surroundings again.  Furious, and abandoning his broken book on the floor, he marched from the room and straight to his chamber.  He had issued his orders, and did not want to see anyone for the rest of the day.  He ripped the door to the West Wing open, ignoring the footman whose job it normally was, and once he had entered he slammed it with every ounce of strength he had.  He was done with them.  He was just done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The prince jumped as he spun around, not expecting anyone to be in his chambers.  “Who is that?” he demanded.  “What are you doing in my room?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a brief pause before he heard a woman’s voice again.  “You can hear me?” it said, barely louder than a whisper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I can hear you!” he snapped.  “You are speaking, aren’t you?  Now where are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where?” he shouted.  “I insist you step out from wherever you are hiding this instant!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another pause.  “I...I’m not hiding,” the voice cautiously explained.  “I’m right here.  But you really can hear me, can’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Enough of this game, woman!” Prince Adam cried.  He could feel himself beginning to panic, though.  There was no one in the room with him.  The voice was too near to be blocked by a wall or a barrier of any sort.  It was perfectly clear and not five feet away, but there was no one there.  There were tales Prince Adam had heard of madmen at the start of their final descent, and many involved hearing voices that belonged to no one.  Was it really happening?  Was his mind truly that far gone already?  “Show yourself!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t!” it fought back.  “I am telling you, I am right next to you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam trembled as he stumbled three steps backward, pulling a shaking hand up to his face.  “I’m speaking to a disembodied voice,” he rasped out.  “I’ve gone mad.  I’ve actually gone mad…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” the voice called out.  “You’re not mad!  At least, not so far as I can tell.  But how can you hear me?  No one else can.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Am I really meant to have an argument with myself?” the prince wondered aloud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a brief pause.  “I won’t stop you if you want to,” the voice responded, “but don’t feel you have to on my account.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam sat on the edge of his bed and flopped backwards.  “I’ve gone crazy and the voice in my mind is a smartass.  Brilliant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A tiny throat clear sounded, and the voice seemed to move closer to him.  “Listen, I don’t know what I can do to convince you otherwise, but I promise, I am not a figment of your imagination.  But I am here, and you are the only one who seems to be able to hear me, and I am not going to let you take this away from me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take what away from you?” the prince argued back.  “You’re a voice in my head!  You don’t have takeable things.  If you did, I’d be threatening to take them right about now!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am not a voice!” The sharp response came so closely directly over Prince Adam’s head that he actually jolted slightly on the bedcovers.  “I am a person who is </span>
  <em>
    <span>stuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> here and </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one</span>
  </em>
  <span> has been able to hear me and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> leave this place and I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>so sick of being alone!  </span>
  </em>
  <span>So I am sorry if this is a pain in your royal ass, Your Highness, but if my options are bothering someone who doesn’t like me or being completely and utterly alone, then it’s no contest, and you’re just going to have to deal with that!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam splayed his arms wide in his frustration.  “How can I deal with you when there is no ‘you’ here?  And why am I even having this argument?  You’re a hallucination, I should be focusing on </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh!” the voice grunted out.  “You are unbelievable!  Honestly, is there anyone else in the world who gets spoken to by a ghost and keeps their focus on </span>
  <em>
    <span>themselves</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The prince snapped his head to the left in the direction the voice had last spoken from.  “A ghost?  Are you truly a ghost?”  He sat up slightly, supporting himself on his elbows.  “I’m not going mad?” he softly asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pause for a moment, though the offput huff was hard to miss.  “I have no idea where your wellness is, since I don’t know you particularly well, but as far as me really being a ghost, yes, I am.  At least, I think I am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> you are?” the prince asked.  “How do you not know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An exasperated huff was heard.  “How, exactly, does one know?  Is there a book on this topic I can read?  There has not exactly been a directional list for me to reference on this.  A week ago I was living in my small, provincial town, and the next thing I know, I am watching my own burial.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam sat up further very sharply.  “You’re the girl...you’re...Belle?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” the voice cheered. “Oh, I know this must be the strangest of days for you, but for the first time in a week someone knows who I am, and that is such a relief!”  She giggled.  “I don’t know what I would have done if absolutely no one knew I was here.  This is wonderful!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam stared at the space his brain had decided Belle was standing.  “You’re dead, you’ve been buried...and yet you’re here, speaking with me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So it would seem.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His auburn eyebrows drew together.  “But why </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” he genuinely asked.  “Why am I the one you are haunting?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Belle, feeling real for the first time in a week, gave a shrug that no one could see.  “I genuinely do not know,” she told him.  “Honestly, I have been trying to talk to everyone else in your castle, and no one else has so much as blinked.  I was as surprised as you are that you could hear me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam’s bold blue eyes narrowed.  “Prove it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How does one prove that they are equally as surprised as another person?” the spirit genuinely asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not that!” the prince snapped.  “Prove that you are real.  Prove that you are a ghost.”  His voice dropped lower but grew softer before he added, “Prove you are not a hallucination, a voice conjured by my mind as I fall with despair into madness.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Belle had not been prepared for this confrontation at all, having lost hope of human interaction days earlier, but she was determined not to lose the chance to be perceived as an actual person again.  “Tell me a topic you know nothing about.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something you know nothing about!” Belle insisted.  “I’m sure there is something I hold knowledge of that you don’t, and when I teach you something foreign to your own pre-existing knowledge, you will know that I am not conjured from your mind.  So what are you ignorant on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ignorant?” he shouted.  “You lowly little…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No one knows everything about everything,” she interrupted, “and you can spare me the temper tantrum.  You can’t see me, you can’t touch me, and you can’t threaten me to any degree of effectiveness.  So if we could skip ahead from the part where you, the spoiled royal, pitch a fit about not being bowed to by a </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span> peasant, and just go straight to the part where we figure this out, we will both be spared the headache.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If anything,” he cooly returned to her, “you’ve done more to convince me that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> all in my head.  You certainly sound like me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m frustrated with you,” she snipped back.  “Now come up with a topic, or I shall choose for you, and you will not enjoy that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly he pulled his legs up to the bed and crossed them, feeling oddly like a child again.  “Would you bore me with a lecture on cloud types?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” she responded a little too calmly for his comfort level.  “Tell me, what do you know already about what a woman experiences when she goes through her courses?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam actually jumped backwards on the bed, putting distance between himself and the voice with a less than dignified yelp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My point exactly,” the deceased woman claimed.  “It is a topic that I know about, but I have a very strong feeling that you are a touch ignorant on the subject.  So, from my viewpoint, you have three options: you can just believe me to be real and be done with it, you can choose a topic for me to discuss with which to prove that I am not already a part of you, or I can go into as much detail as I can about…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The first one!” he interrupted quickly.  “I will believe you.  For now.”  A large part of him genuinely believed her, and the part that doubted was not strong enough to override the fear that she would follow through with her threat.  He did not have an alternative topic in mind, and in that moment he was not ready to risk it.  “Fine.  You’re real.  So now what happens?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A tired sigh was heard at his side, and if Prince Adam could see her, he was fairly certain that she had taken a seat beside him on his bed.  “Honestly?  I don’t know.  For the last week I have been screaming at everyone around me, worried that I would be in this place that is not my home, alone for eternity.  Well, I really only </span>
  <em>
    <span>screamed</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam suddenly remembered the moment in his study the other day, when he was so sure he had heard an anguished cry that Cogsworth had been completely deaf to.  “I heard you then,” he spoke slowly.  “Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why could you hear me or why did I scream?” Belle asked.  “Actually, I can’t answer the first one.  But as to the second one, I found myself in a room so glorious and I could not enjoy it at all.” She groaned as she remembered it.  “All those books in that wonderful, wonderful library, and I can’t touch them at all, and therefore I cannot read them at all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Books…”  The prince moved swiftly, sliding off his bed and running over toward a dresser.  “I know how you can prove you’re real.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Belle raised an eyebrow, even though the prince could not see it.  “I thought you said that you would just believe that I was.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well, clearly I was avoiding a topic,” he grumbled as he shoved his hand into a drawer.  When he pulled it back out, he triumphantly held up a red book.  “I’ve never read this.  I don’t know the lines.  I’m going to open it to a random page and turn away.  You will read it aloud.  Twice.  When you are done, I’ll look and see if what you said matches.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because your mind could not otherwise know the text in advance!” Belle cheered.  “I must say, for a spoiled boy, you’re actually quite clever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam glared in the direction of the voice.  “You have no idea what I would do to you for that comment if you were mortal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a decent idea,” Belle countered, “but I’m not mortal, and this is the most fun I’ve had in a while.  You should not expect me to stop any time soon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The prince almost called off the experiment in his frustration, but curiosity still won out.  “Here,” he commended, flipping the book open to the middle and refusing to look down at it.  He placed it on top of the bedcovers and walked over to the window.  “Read.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Belle gave a very mocking salute to the prince, taking a small amount of pleasure from her defiance, before turning to the task at hand.  She read the full page, paused only for a moment before being told to read it again, and did so.  The passage was quite entertaining, and Belle had tried unsuccessfully to turn the page herself, but at least she was able to still read again, if only briefly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” she said, scooting away from the book, then mentally chastising herself because it was not as though the prince could see or touch her, and her distance really did not matter.  “Now you read it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam turned, took two firm strides toward the book, then stopped dead in his tracks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Belle frowned.  “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The prince said nothing in return, but there was unmistakable fear in his eyes.  Belle took a moment to realize that he must be dreading the conclusion of the experiment, because while matching words might mean an otherworldly friend, mismatched words would mean that he was well into a state of decline he was unlikely to pull out of.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your Highness,” Belle coaxed as gently as she could, “it’s okay.  The text will match what you heard.  It’s okay.”  She got to her feet, again for no real purpose due to her ethereal nature.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> are okay.  Just read the pages.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hesitantly, he stepped up and reached out for the book.  Belle could see the faint tremble in his hand as he brought it up to read it.  But then she saw something remarkable as he took in the written word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grinned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was no smirk, no half-hearted smile in the name of politeness, but a genuine, beautiful grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re real,” he whispered, lowering the book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Belle grinned back at him.  “I told you I was.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re real!” he laughed.  “I’m not mad, you’re really you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I really am,” she laughed with him.  “Oh, you have no idea how good it is to hear you say that!  I thought I was going to be stuck alone here in this castle forever with no one to talk to but the walls and myself!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The twinkle in his eye dimmed a little at the comment.  “Yes, well, you wouldn’t have been the only one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Belle nearly scoffed, but something in her held her tongue.  “Your Highness?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now that...now that we know we can speak with one another,” Belle almost hesitantly asked, “would it be possible for you to do a few things for me?  Nothing extreme!” she quickly clarified.  “Just...just keeping an open book nearby and occasionally turning the page so I can read?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prince Adam was about to point out how ridiculous it would look for him to be turning pages of a book he wasn’t reading, and how he had no intention of telling the castle staff about her, since they apparently could not prove her existence and would think him mad (even though </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> now knew he wasn’t), but Belle’s next comment stayed his thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And,” she delicately went on, “in a week’s time, when my father comes home from the market, can you...can you please have him informed?  There’s nothing he can do from the marketplace, and finding out now would only cost him money he really needs to earn to keep going.  I am already dead and buried, but he will be returning home, and I...I won’t be there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The prince stood quietly for a moment, having not considered that part of the story before.  Belle had been alive once.  She’d had a family, apparently one that did not know of her fate.  Her father would return home to a daughter missing, murdered, and have nowhere to turn for answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He flipped the red book around in the air before catching it.  “You’re starting with this,” he said.  “I’m not going through my entire collection for this request.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Belle smiled at him.  While it was not at all the fate she had imagined for herself, perhaps her new existence would not be entirely terrible after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And if he thought they were not going to end up eventually going through that entire library, he was in for a surprise.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>